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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27880301">Parting Fog</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhZee/pseuds/OhZee'>OhZee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dissociation [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftermath of Torture, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Happy Ending, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Minor Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu, Past Torture, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Recovery, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:09:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,966</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27880301</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhZee/pseuds/OhZee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He hadn’t broken. Not in the way they’d wanted.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt - Relationship, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dissociation [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041293</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>106</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Parting Fog</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I hadn't actually planned on making this a series; Dissociation was meant to be a one-shot. But the muse took me and here we are! I'm writing this as we go and I'm not wholly sure exactly where this will go, but I do know it'll have a happy ending once we get there. Tags will be updated as necessary as we go along.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier woke to pain. It wasn’t the fiery agony that lanced through him before, but something dulled. Something had changed.</p>
<p>Sluggishly, his mind struggled. He’d been adrift, he knew. He had… retreated. It had been so much, too much, and some pillar of mental fortitude he hadn’t been previously aware of possessing had faltered, buckling. Everything after that was an indistinct nothing. It had been such a relief. He’d broken, but not in the way they’d wanted.</p>
<p>But now… Awareness was a strange thing to be conscious of experiencing, but the knowledge was undeniable. He could feel his body again. The ground beneath him felt softer than the cell floor. What had happened? He didn’t know. He tried to open his eyes.</p>
<p>Such a simple thing had never been so hard. It was like trying to run through molasses. His eyelids heaved open as if they were made of heavy iron and he nearly groaned with the effort.</p>
<p>“Jaskier.”</p>
<p>The voice was more familiar to him than his own. It struck through him like lightning, hazy memory slamming into him with all the force of a brick. Geralt. Geralt had come, and—</p>
<p>“Don’t try to speak. Your vocal chords are still healing.”</p>
<p>Yennefer.</p>
<p>Light filtered in and became distinct shapes. Geralt’s piercing eyes, the fall of Yennefer’s long black hair as she leaned over him.</p>
<p>He wasn’t in the cell anymore. He wasn’t with Nilfgaard. He’d been rescued. He was lying in a bed, somewhere safe. He wanted to cry.</p>
<p>“It’s alright. You’re safe now,” Geralt said more softly than Jaskier had ever heard him.</p>
<p>“Sit him up, Geralt. He needs to drink these.”</p>
<p>For a moment, Jaskier couldn’t decipher the words, his mind working too slowly. Then large hands were on him, too familiar to be startling. He’d know those hands anywhere. They lifted him effortlessly, the sensation dizzying until he came to rest on a wall of solid muscle that supported him completely. He was leaning back against Geralt, the witcher taking his full weight with ease.</p>
<p>There was something important having to do with Geralt. Nilfgaard had wanted something to do with him. That’s why they’d taken Jaskier. But he hadn’t broken. Not in the way they’d wanted. He hadn’t told them anything. </p>
<p>He opened his mouth to say as much, but Yennefer’s fingers were on his lips, her face stern with warning.</p>
<p>“I know what a struggle it is for you to stay silent, but if you ever want to sing again, you’ll do it. The healing won’t take if you start speaking too soon.”</p>
<p>It took Jaskier a beat longer than it should have to understand, to process the message. But then he did and he nodded; an effort. He could tell them later. There was no rush, because he hadn’t broken. Not in the way they’d wanted.</p>
<p>Yennefer held a vial up to his lips. He raised his hands to take it from her, but his movements were sluggish and his hands felt strange. Yennefer pulled the vial away at the same moment Jaskier caught sight of the bandages bulkily wrapped around his hands. Every finger was splinted. He couldn’t move them and didn’t want to try, staring at them dumbly.</p>
<p>“None of that,” Yennefer admonished. One of Geralt’s hands came up and gently lowered Jaskier’s arms.</p>
<p>“Your fingers will heal completely, but you won’t be using them just yet.” The explanation settled something in him he hadn’t quite realized was quickening, and Jaskier distantly understood that he’d nearly begun to panic. He could remember all too vividly how they were broken, one by one. The memories threatened him, ready to overtake him like a wave. But his fingers would heal. Yennefer wouldn’t give him false hope; even at her cruelest, she wasn’t that cruel. And just now she was being kind. It gave him the strength to swallow back the encroaching tide, refusing to indulge it. It hadn’t worked. He hadn’t broken. Not in the way they’d waned. </p>
<p>She raised the vial to his lips again.</p>
<p>He drank obediently. Only when the sour taste hit his tongue did he belatedly consider he ought to have asked what it was. He managed to swallow, but must have made a face that prompted Yennefer to smile.</p>
<p>“Painkiller,” she explained, unprompted. “This one next.”</p>
<p>She held another vial to his lips and Jaskier drank. Swallowing was less of an effort this time, the painkiller already sinking into his bones like a warm bath. The persistent aching dulled further, his muscles relaxing almost involuntarily.</p>
<p>“A healing potion. It’ll put you to sleep again, but you need the rest.”</p>
<p>The third thing she held to his lips was not a vial at all, but a full glass. The liquid inside was cloudy, but otherwise colorless.</p>
<p>“Water, with lemon and sugar in it. You’re badly dehydrated and I doubt they fed you well. This will hold you over for now, but you need to drink it all.”</p>
<p>Jaskier hadn’t known how thirsty he was until the sweetened water hit his tongue. He drank greedily, chasing the glass when Yennefer pulled it away to let him breathe. She warned him to drink more slowly, but he only did so because Yennefer controlled the speed. Still, it wasn’t long before the glass was empty. He thought he could do with another, but his eyelids began to droop.</p>
<p>“Rest now, Jaskier,” she said.</p>
<p>He felt himself being tipped back, but he was still held securely against Geralt. They were lying down together; Geralt wasn’t letting him go. The thought accompanied him into darkness, chasing away his dreams.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Jaskier woke again, he felt lighter. The pain was gone, only soreness remaining. When he stirred, so too did his pillow, a deep inhale rocking him gently. His head was resting on Geralt’s chest, most of his body still lying against Geralt’s, curled into him. Geralt’s arm supported his weight, his hand resting on Jaskier’s waist. Jaskier didn’t need to open his eyes to know it was him. </p>
<p>“Jaskier,” the witcher murmured quietly, voice rough with sleep. Sword-calloused fingers came up to Jaskier’s face, brushing gently against his cheek. Belatedly, Jaskier realized he was crying, and Geralt was wiping his tears away.</p>
<p>“Are you in pain?”</p>
<p>Jaskier shook his head, blinking his eyes open slowly. Soft light suffused through the windows. Early morning. Geralt was looking down at him, lines of concern creasing his face. Jaskier wanted to reassure him, but even if he were allowed to speak without fear of ruining his voice, he was at a loss. He couldn’t articulate why he was crying, only that… Death in that cell had been his only expectation. Anything beyond that had been an abstract concept, and this? This outcome was more than he’d ever dared dream. He was rescued, and Yennefer was healing him, and Geralt was holding him. Geralt had brought him back from the abyss.</p>
<p>The tears were flowing more heavily now and Geralt looked increasingly concerned. Jaskier could only shake his head again and bury his face in Geralt’s shirt, trying to pull himself together. It was a useless endeavor. He was helpless against the swell of emotion. Geralt’s comfort as he wrapped his arms more firmly around him and held him close only served to crumble the last remnants of the dam holding back the surge. Jaskier began to sob, shaking in Geralt’s arms.</p>
<p>Geralt cradled him, rubbed his back. Hadn’t his back been torn open? They’d used a whip. He’d screamed but he hadn’t told them what they wanted, even when they promised it would stop if he did. His back felt whole now. He imagined he had Yennefer to thank for that. And he would thank her, once he could speak. Once he could tell them he hadn’t broken. Not in the way they’d wanted.</p>
<p>Jaskier was only aware that Yennefer had entered the room when he heard her tsk.</p>
<p>“Come now, bard, you’re wasting all that water we managed to get into you last night. And you’ll hurt your throat with all this melodrama. I’ll not have you undoing all my hard work.” The words might have been harsh were her tone not so soft.</p>
<p>He almost laughed, his breath hitching on a sob as he struggled to regain control. She was right. Geralt’s comfort was a balm, but Yennefer’s gentle demands - which were demands nonetheless - helped him find stability, direction. With hiccoughing breaths, Jaskier managed to stop crying.</p>
<p>“Come on, Jask. Let’s sit you up now,” Geralt said, his voice rumbling beneath Jaskier’s cheek. </p>
<p>Jaskier found he could just about sit up on his own, with only a little help from Geralt. Yet still Geralt supported him so he wouldn’t have to expend the energy to do it himself. Yen was holding out another glass of cloudy water, and again he went to grasp it himself only to encounter his splintered fingers. He tried not to make a frustrated noise as he lowered them. Yennefer brought the glass to his lips and he drank.</p>
<p>“Bones take longer to heal than flesh, I’m afraid. And cuts are easier than burns. You’ll have some faint scarring from the lashes, but I was able to heal your back with minimal fuss. The burns are nearly there, but your feet were the worst and will take a little longer.” Something in her expression tightened, angry, as she said it. But she was not angry at him. “Your throat is more delicate, as are all the little bones in your fingers. But they will heal, so long as you let them.”</p>
<p>Flesh took longer than a day to heal though, even with the aid of a powerful sorceress. He didn’t know how long he’d been out, but it had been longer than that. A healing sleep, he supposed. His thoughts were clearer now. He could focus and reason without the foggy, disconnected feeling he’d had last time. He felt fully connected to his body again. He could feel that his back was whole, his feet bandaged but painless. His mind sent up warning signals when he thought about his feet, thoughts skittering away from the memories. He was still very tired.</p>
<p>When the water was gone, Yennefer brought forth a bowl of soup. It smelled like bone broth and richness and Jaskier was abruptly ravenous. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel embarrassed at being fed like a child when Yennefer brought the spoon to his lips. She fed him slowly, much to his consternation, but he reluctantly acknowledged that it was probably wise. Each spoonful soothed his throat on the way down.</p>
<p>She spoke of little things as she fed him, sometimes speaking to Geralt, who would respond with little things of his own. How the horses were, what they were running low on in the kitchen. Jaskier was too focused on the soup to pay much attention to the words, but the conversation was soothing. It made being fed less awkward.</p>
<p>After the soup, which left him surprisingly full, there was another healing potion. A wave of drowsiness overtook him again and Geralt lay him back down. He didn’t join him this time though, climbing out of bed as he settled Jaskier against the pillows.</p>
<p>“I need to go see to Roach and do some chores so Yennefer doesn’t kick me out,” Geralt explained with a little smile, Yennefer snorting where she was closing the curtains behind him. Jaskier managed the slightest smile in return.</p>
<p>“Neither of us will be far if you need anything, but the potion should let you sleep peacefully until tomorrow.” Geralt seemed to hesitate as Jaskier’s eyes drooped closed. Before Jaskier slipped under, he felt lips press against his brow in a kiss.</p>
<p>“Sleep well, Jask,” he heard. Jaskier did.</p>
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